Neverending Difficulty
by CelloAstro
Summary: Y'all remember Secrets, right? Well I edited it and the pages I had are near all red/purple/black, and it's better now! Same idea, same story line, just take out the confusion and add better tense keeping.  On hiatus until further notice
1. Chapter 1

Hello, hello everyone! Look, I posted the edit! It's basically the same thing, only this time I was too lazy to think up chapter titles! I am a horrible person, I know. Unless nobody cares, then whatever. I added more awkward for Matt here, yay!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for this specific idea. Because if any of us did, let's face it it wouldn't be allowed on television.

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

Mello's sitting right by me studying. Right there, not very far away at all, really. I'd just have to move his bangs out of the way. He'd look up, blue eyes questioning and I'd lean in and-

NO!

I mentally slide-tackle that thought and shake my head trying to stuff the currently unconscious thoughts that had been there back into the mental corner where they belong. Images of me… and… and him… and-

_NO!_

I repeat my previous process trying again to get back to here and now before I do something stupid. I'm Matt, the 18-year-old shut-in/gamer/smoker/geek. He's Mello, the 18-year-old rebel/god in human form/chocolate addict. We both went to Wammy High School. I love him, and he… returns no such feelings. But of course he doesn't, he's got a girlfriend for Crissake!

Unless…

'_Unless she's just a ploy,'_ that insistent, annoying, stupid, _wonderful_ hopeful part of my brain whispers, '_Unless he's gay or bi like you, and he thinks the way you do: that the one you love is beautiful, and you just… aren't worth it.'_

The last part echoes through my mind, loud and shrill like a whistle blast in a cave. _' Aren't worth it… Aren't worth it… Aren't worth it…'_

"Guh," I faceplant onto our table and hit my pencil with my forehead.

"A-haoww!" I groan, rubbing my forehead, "God _dammit_, why do I keep doing that?"

Mello glances up from his book and chuckles, "'Cause you're a dork, that's why. Now what'd you hit this time?" I point to the middle of my forehead, then continue rubbing at it, "Geez I feel like I got a concussion!"

Mello rolls his eyes, and then takes my hand away from my forehead and starts examining the mark. The combination of my hand still in his lightly strong grip and him staring at my face makes my stomach go all flippy and my heartbeat get all fast. "M-Mello? What're you doing?" his blue eyes get thinner and he tilts his head. Stomach continues getting flippy-er.

"Since you were so worried about it, I decided to check for a concussion. Does your head hurt abnormally?"

I snort, "Mello, I just hit myself in the face with a pencil. I'm pretty sure that hitting yourself in the face, by definition, should hurt. So yes."

He releases my hand and releases my forehead from his focused gaze. Then, keeping his face 100% serious, says, "Seeing as your sarcasm has received no damage, you have not suffered a concussion. However, your previous symptoms suggest that you have a disease called no-sense-of-gravity-itis, which does not have a cure at this time," at this point, he can't hold it and bursts out laughing. I frown, but it doesn't reach my eyes, " Shut up about my inability to co-op with gravity Mr. Metro-Leather-Pants, or I'll tell Sayu that you stole those packs of Camels for me." Okay, so I asked him to steal them and it was like 2 months ago but Sayu would just focus on the fact that he stole something and she gets kinda scary when she's mad. Mello's face goes whiter than Near's. "You wouldn't dare,"

"Oh wouldn't I?" I raise my eyebrows slyly.

"Fine! He exclaims desperately, "I'll stop commenting on your klutzy tendancies, just don't tell Sayu!"

I know that he won't keep true to his no-commentary promise, but I can still try. I take out my GameBoy snickering. At the very moment when the comfortable silence has settled over us again, I see he/it walking over.

"Oh happy day!" I coo, my voice positively dripping with sarcasm, "Here comes our bestest friend ever, the albino toysexual wonder!"

Mello gives an exaggerated groan and faceplants into his Calculus book. (We faceplant a lot around here) Near, the toysexual in question, drops his backpack (which is white along with his hair, skin, clothing and most likely internal organs) takes out a couple dolls ('action figures' according to him but they're definitely dolls) and begins taking them apart. "It's nice to know I have friends," he returns easily, snapping a random arm onto an equally random body.

"He was using sarcasm dumbass," Mello spits out from within his equations. Near just looks at him with a blank stare. "As was my statement Mello. I didn't get to be the number one Sophmore at Wammy's for eating chocolate," Well that certainly makes Mello's head pop up.

"Oh here we go. Thanks a lot Near," I mumble shaking my head and plugging my ears in preparation for the rant that was sure to come. Thankfully just as Mello takes a breath to begin his tyrade, the bell rings for class. Sweet, sweet freedom.

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><p>Well, I think that went a lot better, don't you? Please review, they boost confidence and I adore feedback!<p>

While on that subject, I'd like to thank **crazydreamer123**, the sole reviewer of Almost But Not Quite chapter 1. This is kind of insulting to me, because no reviews tells me that my writing sucks so bad it doesn't deserve to be told so. Just saying. Unfortunately **crazydreamer123**, you didn't sign in to review so I couldn't thank you personally and now I have to awkwardly tell you to the world that your review near made me cry. XD Thank you all for reading, and (hopefully) reviewing!


	2. Chapter 2

Look, chapter 2! Edited and shiny and junk! Please enjoy!

Just like in chapter 1, I don't own Mogi, Mello, Matt, Near or Dante's Inferno. Because some technical might call me on that one.

.~::~.

Chapter 2

I really, really hate Phys Ed.

As you know, I'm a gamer. Do you know what that translates to? Pale skin. I'm so white I practically glow in the dark. (Which is a good thing I guess, because who games with the lights on?) Probably the only person in the world that's whiter than me is Near, and he's fricking _albino_!

SO what I'm saying about Phys Ed is that I hate it. With a passion. With a passion as hot as the flaming docks in the fiery hell of Dante's Inferno.

I'm standing in line while Mr. Mogi, the Phys Ed, paces in front of us, checking us off for attendance on his clipboard. The ridiculously Kelly green gym uniform is itchy; I should probably bring it home to wash it sometime soon.

I lean over to Mello, who's one person away from me, and mutter, "Any idea what we're doing today?" he replies, "I think we're doing field hockey," I inwardly groan. Of course it's field hockey; the bane of my existence. Well, all sports in general are, really. But in all honesty, what high school does field hockey? That's so middle school.

Then Mello shushes me so Mogi doesn't get mad. Not that he ever gets mad. Or any emotion at all really. So now I'm shifting around awkwardly, knowing some of the girls are still staring at my ridiculously pale legs. I'm generally not self-conscious but doesn't PE do this to everyone? Well except Mello, of course. Mello _knows_ he looks good. With skin like the sun stretched over defined muscles. He's like Apollo, except German. And when he ties his hair back…! It's so friggin' hot I can hardly keep from _screaming_! Sayu's a lucky girl.

_It's not like I hate her,_ I think as I fiddle with the hockey stick I'm suddenly holding in front of a tiny goal, _She's nice, even though her brother's an insufferable prick, and smart enough to keep Mello entertained. She's also sorta cute. Wow, what a weird position; I'm pining for the boyfriend and calling the girlfriend hot._

So I'm inner monologue-ing about this odd little conundrum I find myself in, totally not paying attention to the game, when _Wham!_ I find myself with three other guys heading straight for me wielding their hockey sticks like lightsabers, and Mello furiously yelling at me and waving his own hockey stick around. My first thought is _Whoa, what did I do?_ Then I realize that they're staring really intensely at my feet. So I'm like _Do they not like my shoes?_ And I look down and notice this bright red thing on the ground right in front of me.

It's the puck.

Shit.

Then, all the players are descending on me and I'm yelling at them to 'stop and think about this rationally for a second!' but they aren't exactly listening and the three have multiplied to nine. _What?_ So now they're all hitting my ankles with their hockey sticks, and let me tell you that fucking _hurts_.

On the bright side, maybe I can use this as an excuse to get out of Phys Ed. 'Mr. Mogi, my ankles have been shattered so I don't think you should let me participate.' Yeah, that should work. But my ankle bones haven' shattered yet and those hockey sticks are starting to bruise me, so I take drastic action:

I kick the ball-puck-thing away from me. I know, not exactly what you would call 'drastic action' but it still qualifies as a foul in the official rules of this stupid game.

.~:~~:.

Yay, it's all up and stuff now! One more thing I don't have to do this week! I'll try to get a schedule in or something, but no promises. And also, good news, I've finished (heavily) editing all the old chapters, and have started chapter six! Yay! I complicate things for Matt, just because I'm a sadistic bitch to every one of my main characters. Mostly Matt.

Thank you to XxProudToBexX! Your conversations are fun, and I hope you post something, you seem like the kind of person who'd write really great stuff!

Reviews are welcome, see you next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

Third chapter, ready to go!

I don't own Death Note, everything belongs to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata, except Nicole. She comes from the whore at my school that she was based on. (Trust me, real!Nicole acts like Difficulties!Nicole. To a t.)

.~::~.

"I'm telling you, you should have just kneed the guy in front of you!"

"Yeah, but though that would have saved my ankles, kneeing one of the jocks in the groin would not go over well with his steroid-gorilla groupies," I point out. Mello and I are walking to our group's table in the school's plaza for lunch from Phys Ed. I'm still somewhat limping from the stick incident.

…Wow that sounds really dirty taken out of context.

"Pssh," Mello scoffs, "Just say it was self-defense. Not that hard, moron." Violence is never the answer unless you're with Mello. Then, it always is. I roll my eyes but I'm smiling. I decide not to answer because if you get sucked into an argument with this guy, you won't get out of it until you're curled up on the floor crying and begging for his mercy.

…Again, dirty taken out of context. What is _with_ me today?

We reach our table and no-one is there but Near. Mello stares. "What the hell," he states, "I thought you were paraplegic." The snow-colored kid-teenager-thing raises an eyebrow, "I assure you I am not," he states calmly. I let out a sigh. This little routine is getting a bit old now, and I leave them to their devices to get in line for my lunch. I'm way too lazy to make my own, and Mum's too busy wherever the hell she is, cuz she's definitely not making her only son PBJ.

'What about his dad? Is he busy too?' You may ask. Just… don't. Please don't ask about him. Those are memories better left alone In a corner somewhat akin to where I keep my Mello thoughts, but on a different plane of my mind.

Jesus H. Christ, now you're all thinking 'This bitch better haul his emo ass to the nearest therapist.' Know what? You can take your therapists and shove them up their own-

"MAAATIEEEE!~~"

_Nooooooooo._

I'll take them. All of them. All those unqualified bastards you call therapists. Anything but-

"It's your dearly beloved, snookums!~"

Anything but _her._

Kylie. Greenbaum. Swings her black hair around her shoulders thinking it's attractive, but all it does is whip me in the face and make me more annoyed with her. Not that I _can_ get anymore annoyed; Kylie is the most irritating person on the planet, even beating out Sakura Haruno and Ronald McDonald and Misa _and_ the creepy Leeds mattress store guy. Combined. She's the ringleader of the 'popular girls'; by which I mean, of course, 'barely sentient female beings who get breast implants and hem their skirts so low they look like belts'. I know just about every guy in the school has had a fantasy about her and her fake, basketball-sizd boob-things, but she wants to date me. The gamer kid who can't stand the sight of her. Maybe she just likes the thrill of the chase. Well, newsflash, there won't _be_ a chase, because this 'relationship' is going _nowhere_!

I shove her away to get the implants out of my face. Ignoring her coos of 'Mattie-poo' and 'lovvie-dum', I grab my food and disappear into the crowd of students. I weave my way through the lines and cliques, and when I finally look back I can't see the demon-girl. Unfortunately, my pants have mysteriously gotten ketchup on them. Yick. Oh well; I've been needing to wash my clothes anyways.

"Hey, Matt! Who'dja kill?" Mello asks mockingly as I slide onto our table bench. Everyone else's arrived: L and Raito and Misa. Misa is latched onto Raito (as always), snuggling into him as he and L shoot eye-daggers at each other over her head. They must've fought again. Those two are always fighting (sometimes it turns physical) but everybody knows it's all just sexual tension. Everybody, _except_ for those two. As smart as they may be, they are entirely oblivious. Near is still here, but Linda is also. She's sketching furiously as usual as Sayu watches over her shoulder, and Mello's next to Sayu eating.

I reply, "I'd ask you the same question."

"But at least I'm smart enough o hide the evidence.," he says cooly. Sayu hits him on the arm lightly, having perfect aim even though she's still watching Linda sketch. He apologizes. Sayu doesn't like when he talks about being a criminal. I know he'll win every bicker he has with me and so does he, so I always let it go. But with Sayu? Good one. The girl always wins. I sit across from those two, next to L.

"Oh, hi Matt!" Sayu greets me with a small wave, still not looking up from Linda's sketch. I wiggle my fingers half-heartedly back, even though she's not looking. L nods, not removing his stare from Raito, who doesn't say anything. Seems fixed-staring genes made it to both of them, but the politeness one didn't, the psychopath.

Even more of a psychopath is the guy now sitting next to Misa, trying to be as close to Raito as possible with the annoying blonde girl in the way: Teru Mikami. He's a creeper all right. Total weirdo. I won't even go into the fine details, but let's just say that _HE'S A STALKER_ who considers Raito his kami, his God. Like I said: _creeper_. "Hello everyone," he says briskly, taking out a small bento box. Even Sayu, the chronically nice one, doesn't say anything back, because he once tried to get into her house by way of her bedroom window.

Don't ask.

But Mikami ignores it and starts placing food in his mouth. He chews three times, the same rhythm each time, then swallows. It's slightly disgusting as he does it again, with everyone staring at him, morbidly fascinated by his _weird_ eating habits.

"Teru, don't eat like that." Near says, breaking the ice. We all wince; subtlety is lost on this boy.

Why not? Mikami inquires, straightening his glasses. (Chew. Chew. Chew. Swallow.)

"Because it weirds people out!" Mello burst out.

Mikami's eyes dart to Raito, who looks disgusted. This seems to convince him enough. "All right," he says, "I'm very sorry to have irritated you. I will stop." Why am I reminded of Percy Weasley? But we all breathe a sigh of relief. No more creepy OCD chewing-

Chew… Chew, chew… Swallow.

I facepalm. He'll never learn.

Nobody's looking at Super Freak anymore and are just sort of staring at each other. No one has any idea what to say.

Linda looks up around the table, putting her sketchbook in her bag and remarks, "You know for two people who apparently hate each other, L and Raito sure are together a lot." The two in question propel, like, five feet away from each other, ending with L pushing me off the bench and Mikami's food flying. I would cheer, but my ass hurts from the fall. When I look up, two freaky black-rimmed eyes are staring at me. I yelp and fal back down, ungracefully I might add, on my butt.

"I did not mean to surprise you, Matt-kun," L says extending a hand to help me back up. I take it, and together we manage to get me back up on the bench without another fall(all the while ignoring Mello's laughter). L continues, "I was merely wondering if you would switch-"

"No." I say flatly, cutting him off. He nods regretfully and scoots as far away from Raito as possible. He accomplishes this while stuffing a cupcake into his mouth. Mello looks on woefully as the chocolate frosting disappears into the Bottomless Pit. Misa pulls a face at L's actions. "Eugh! Eru, you're going to get fat!"

"Misa-chan, we've been over this many a time before. My brain-" he taps his temple "-burns the calories so the rest of me stays thin."

"But it doesn't make any sense!" she screeches

"Nothing makes sense to this chick," I mutter to myself.

"Disregarding the lack of sense in your previous statement," Raito states calmly, crossing his arms-and failing thanks to Misa- and staring at L, "You would still have diabetes by now."

"Hey, I'm-a-gay!" Mello yells, quick to come to L's defense, "Ever heard of a fast-acting metabolism?" L nods, unwrapping a HoHo. Wait, where did that come from? "Precisely, Mello-kun."

Sensing he had lost this bicker, Raito points out another of L's flaws. "You're not Japanese, Eru, so don't use honorifics! You're being Wapanese!" L blinks, then calmly states, "Actually, I am 25% Japanese, along with 25% English and 24% Russian, with 11.7% Frence and 14.3% Italian. So I disprove you."

I tell Raito cheerfully, "Yhis able is very good for headdesking!"

"Shut _up_ geek!" he growls.

"Oi!" Mello shouts-for at least the umpteen-trillionth time today-"Don't insult Matt! He's not _a_ geek, he's _the_ geek!" I nod my agreement. Raito raises an eyebrow, and I notice a vein pulsing in his forehead. "There's a difference?"

"Of course there is you dumkompf!" Mello huffs. If I haven't said already that I love when Mello speaks German, I love when Mello speaks German.

Raito opens his mouth to retort, but is cut off by a Misa chirping, "Kya! Kya! Misa forgot! Misa has to go to her locker!" She stands up, pulling Raito up with her as she refuses to let go. "Come on! Come on!" She skips away, dragging the long-suffering Raito with her. Mikami bustles off after them.

Even though he's a jackass, sometimes you gotta feel sorry for that Yagami guy.

Oh yeah, my food. I bring it up to my mouth-pizza today, w00t-and I'm about to take a bite-God that cheese looks good-

Kiin. Kaan. Kuun.

Nooooooooo! (x2)

Time to go to English, with an empty stomach. With Kylie, Raito, and everything else, just to top it off, I forgot to eat.

.~::~.

Wow, now I remember that this is where my chapters start getting longer. The word-length meter will fluctuate frequently after this, FYI.

Thanks to noxbocksty for originally writing this, XxProudToBexX for keeping me entertained (post something soon!), and my mother for needing the computer right as I was going to post this chapter yesterday. Always so helpful, all of you.


	4. Chapter 4

Yay, chapter 4! This was supposed to be posted forever ago. But then I got distracted by a shiny thing.

If anybody remembers this chapter from way back whenever, This had a lot of what some of you were calling 'blatant racism'. That was not racism, that was me borrowing characters (I called them OCs because back then I thought that meant 'Outside Character'. Whoops) from the lovely Axis Powers: Hetalia. It's an amazing series; personified countries. Go. Watch it. Worship it. Raid the fandom, it has SO MUCH YAOI. Except they have plot …most of the time.

Bee-tee-dubs, there's cursing in this one. Enough to actually raise the rating. From Peeved Matt and That One Fight from Those Two People. So yeah. Children under 12, good luck.

I don't own anything except this precise fanfiction concept, and the characters I made up myself.

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><p>I feel like bashing my head into the door, except it's clear plastic, and the manager might notice. Working from 3 to 6 doing nothing but sitting in the humid, smelly inventory room counting how many cases of Monkey Ball 2 and Kirby we have in the store currently. But hey, it isn't all bad! At least I found out our store has early releases Battlefield 3 for 360, which I need to remember to buy with my employee discount.<p>

But it does get pretty bad when Mr. I'm The Manager Of This GameStop So The Universe Is Mine To Control yanks me from my sweaty haven-closet to scrape used 'lady products' from the bottom of stall trash cans(seriously ladygamers, you have hand-eye coordination. Use it) because he faints at the sight of blood, life can _suck._

So yeah, I work at GameStop. Y'know that shitty one that's always surrounded by wasted hobos and stoned emo kids, oh and that one guy got shot here last year? Yeah, that one. Eric Cowmus, the award winner of stupidest name ever, is my boss. When he hired me eight months ago, my job description read 'inventory'. Now, it would be more appropriate to label it 'inventory and other shit Eric doesn't feel like doing'. But hey, my shift's over, I don't gotta listen to him no more.

(Near, if you're reading this for whatever stalkery psych project you're currently working on and are even _thinking_ about my grammar misusage, I recognize it. And don't give a fuck about it. I've been scraping t-pons out of small metal boxes, sweating my ass off, and having to answer stupid questions about Mario vs Halo for old ladies buying games for their grandsons' whatevers, so can it. Go rape a Transformers cosplayer.)

I slide into my red '87 Camero (with racing stripes, 'cause I'm classy like that), my baby car, my pride and joy, and speed over to my crappy complex in the equally crappy part of town. The door guy, Javier, whose ethnicity is totally unidentifiable since he's got _ginger freaking hair_ and white skin, greets me with his usual smile and chipper "Ey, Matthew!"

I just light up a cancer stick and reply with a strained smile, "Hey, Jav. Stop calling me Matthew. My name is Matt."

He just smiles wider. "Sure thing, Matthew." Doormen, I _swear_. I get to the elevator and click the 'up' button, puffing on my cigarette while I wait. Right as I'm about to get on, Jav calls after me, "Ey, Matthew! Be careful goin' up! Ay 'eard gunsho's, an' I tink it was Ivan!"

Ohhh, Mother of Jesus…

I get to my floor and am met with the sight of a shotgun-wielding Ivan, one of my neighbors, leaning on the wall next to the Jones-Kirkland, two more of my neighbors, complex door, which now hosted two (more) bullet holes. Ivan had his Look on his face, the one where he smiled like a child and his violet eyes freakin' glowed. I smile warily.

"Hey Ivan," I start cautiously, "What're you up to there?"

He turns to me with a creepy childish smile adorning his features. "Hello, Matt. I'm waiting for capitalist pig to come home from work so can repay him for Cold War." From within the apartment, I hear Arthur's voice, "Alfred wasn't even bloody alive for a majority of the cold war! And neither were you! He was only ten when the war _ended!_" With these protests, Ivan shoots another round into the apartment. Something shatters behind the door. "Gah! You bloody fucking _twat!_ That was an antique! And in any case, Alfred won't be home for another two hours, so you might as well wait at your apartment!"

Ivan's smile widens and his violet eyes blaze dangerously. "Ah, how right you are. I shall go home now and be back then," he walks off towards his room, humming some unidentifiable tune. I make my way to my own room, now that the hazard of a psycho Russian shooting off something rather important was gone.

On the way, I hear "Alfred, I'm not kidding you have two hours to get your arse into this bloody apartment… No, you haven't done anything wrong, it's just-… No, Alfred you twit, listen! Ivan thinks you get home from work in two hours… Yes he was…No, I'm fine. Can't say the same for that vase from mum, or you if you don't get home _now!_"

Right then. As you've caught a glimpse of already, my neighbors are freaks. Like, _clinically insane_ freaks. Well, to anyone but themselves, anyways. At least they're all around my age, so no old people and no small screaming drool monsters.

To the left of my apartment is this Japanese girl, Hitomi. She's 18, like me. Has really pretty eyes, and a _massive_ chest. Near bigger than Nicole's. At least these ones are natural. She's really sweet, kind of quiet. She knows about Mello, and sort of nags me about telling him one of these days. Even though he has a girlfriend.

At my right is mood-swing central, where two unstoppable forces of nature-Alfred and Arthur, KY and tsundere respectively-live and function(ish) under one roof. Alfred is an author of Adventure/Romance novels, and Arthur is a British literary magazine editor who was the only person Alfred would take an interview from. Arthur's kind of moody, probably because of people and Alfred staring at his freakin' HUGE eyebrows and Alfred's complaints about his lack of cooking ability. Cliché, right? Alfred is this happy-go-lucky guy who likes America and has a decent cooking ability but prefers the odd colors of McDonalds. These two fight at least every day, and when it's really bad, they make up If You Know What I Mean (yeah, they're together. I know, it's so weird), and Arthur is rather, um, vocal, If You Know What Else I Mean right next to my paper thin bedroom wall. You cannot imagine my discomfort.

Across from them are Felix and Toris. Felix is an actor, and Toris is his manager/lover. Why is there so much shonen-ai on my floor? I haven't the foggiest. Well anyways, their little love story has been spouted at so many home interviews for theatre magazines that everyone on this floor has practically memorized it by now. Toris was a first-time viewer at one of Felix's troupe's productions of 'The Wizard of Oz' as the scarecrow. ("I was, like, the best one _ever!"_) and fell in love at first sight. How you can fall in love with some guy playing a deranged, brainless bird-man I will never discover. He went to see the show a number of times after, and caught wind of a rumor that Felix was in need of a manager. He was the first to apply, and Felix took one look and hired him. Several months of shy, subtle pining later ("It was, like, sooo cute!"), Felix finally caught on and here they are now. Yay. Felix is currently building up character for The Most Flamboyantly Gay Man in the World for some play some guy in the troupe wrote. He's been doing this for about a month, and still has three weeks before the first in six months of shows. Joyful days for us all, these'll be.

Next to them, directly across from me, the guy Javier was talking about. A guy named Ivan, huge bulking thing with Russian lineage. He has separation anxiety, acute paranoia, and probably more. Not really a bad guy, I just think he's lonely or something. Doesn't really go out much and always has his AC on. His hair is seriously white from lack of sun and he always wears this scarf around, regardless of season or weather. The scene taking place outside the Jones-Kirkland household is just one of the daily strangeties us tenants have to deal with. One of the more life-threatening ones occurs at one a.m. If anybody walk through our hall for any reason and doesn't watch the volume of their footsteps, Ivan will jump out of his apartment wielding either a revolver or a sink pipe (that somebody has to go and fix _again _afterwards) and begins screaming, usually about the cold war. It's either me, Arthur, or Yao who has to go out and calm him down, assure him that the war is over, and then help him shuffle back to bed while he mumbles about his sister. Yeah, I know. The least threatening experiences are when he tries to get you to live with him. Sure it's creepy, but he doesn't respond to refusals with more than a 'But soon. Da…"

And finally we come to Yao. He's really nice. Asian, 23, works for a toy company, the one that calms Ivan down half the time. He always carries around the projects that his company is working on to promote advertising and try to find problems with them (durability, odd smells, tendencies to explode or light on fire, and also fluffyness~), and right now it's this Hello Kitty thing that has a mouth. It's honestly creepy as hell, and gets more so every time you look at it. Unfortunately, he likes company and invites each of us tenants over for tea a lot, so all his creepy dolls and stuff are all staring at us, judging how we drink our Plantation Mint.

So I get to my apartment door. Ivan left me cookies. Again. I unlock my door and, as I go in, pick up the little baggie between my thumb and forefinger and it goes directly to the trash can. I think he got his recipe from Arthur, because those things gave me the runs last time I ate them. I kind of hope he couldn't see me throw them away.

I flop onto my couch and breath in to sigh. Unfortunately, it was through my nose. And, judging by the revolting smell that assaults my senses, Alfred still isn't home, and Arthur is attempting to cook. A loud "What in the _HELL?_" signals Alfred's (_blessed_) arrival. And screaming ensues.

I just flip on my Xbox. I haven't fully tackled Episodes From Liberty City, So I'll do that. Yep.

* * *

><p>A long while later, a particularly loud curse paired with something shattering makes me jump. While gaming, as some of you know, getting startled usually causes an excessively ridiculous chain reaction. Mine goes as follows:<p>

I crash the ca I stole, which hurts my guy, which costs me virtual thousands, which gets my current mafia boss guy to get mad. And then I get arrested. Just ideal. Friggin' gay neighbors.

I try to remain calm as I put down the controller and go to the kitchen. Opening my cupboard (A fridge came with the place, but to actually be able to use it cost too much), I see that I have instant coffee, marshmallows, chocolate(not allowed to touch it, it's for when Mello's over), Red Bull, ramen, Frosted Flakes(eaten without milk), and ooh! Skittles! Booyah! I take out a Skittles, a Ramen and a Red Bull and fill my X-press coffee thing with water(I kept water. But the stove cost loads too. So none of that). As I'm eating Skittles waiting for it to finish, I tune in to the fight next door.

Tsundere- …pick _up_ your fucking underwear, I won't bloody trip on it!

KY- You should watch where you're going old man! And at least_ I_ don't walk in on _you_ when you're taking a god-damned _shower!_

T- I lock the bloody door, wanker! You should try it!"

K- Maybe you should listen for the running fucking water! But you probably wouldn't know how, since you don't ever listen to your own fucking _boyfriend!_

T- I never listen because most of the time you're talking about the newest bloody hamburger from Jack In The Box!

K- They make hella good hamburgers! You should try them!

T- No thank you, they're disgusting. I'm surprised you're not fat yet!

K- Great, now you think I'm fat! Just fantastic! I'll have to eat you nasty toxic waste cooking for days to get it down!

T- I am an excellent cook! My casserole today would have gone just bloody fine if you hadn't-

K- Oh a _casserole?_ _That's_ what you're calling that thing? It's hard as a rock!

A thunk sounded, I think Alfred just dropped the 'casserole' for emphasis.

T- Don't drop my fucking food! You haven't even tried this yet!

K- I know from past experience, old man!

T- Will you _stop calling me that!_

K- Why shouldn't I? It's true, isn't it?

T- I'm only one bloody year older than you, you egotistical twat!

K- Fire hazard!

T- Incorrigible child!

K- Stuffy jerk!

Russian Intervention- Boys! Why can we not stop with fighting? Is very disturbing so late at night, yes?

I pull out my phone to get the time. Whoa, 10:25. This's been going on for four hours already. I should probably do my homework… Gah! My ramen! I get a fork and snatch it from the coffee thing to begin chowing down.

T- shut _up_ you bloody creepe! Stay out of this!

K- He is sorta right though…

RI- Thank you Alfred!

Chinese Intervention- Quiet down! I'm trying to sleep! Unlike most of you, I have work tomorrow!

Me- I have school…

T- All of you shut up! I can barely think in this bloody hell-hole! You're all-!

K- You're so cute when you're mad, Iggy~

T- Wait-Bu-Uh-How-Th-that doesn't even-MMPH!

I'm going to take a wild shot in the dark here and say that Alfred kissed Arthur.

Actor Commentary- Omigod! Like, it's about time you guys shut up! Me and Liet have been, like, trying to get some beauty sleep for, like, ever!

RI- I don't think it's going to get any quieter. It might get louder, da?

Me- Speak for yourself, my bedroom's right next to it.

K- Enjoy the show them

T- A-Alfred shut your bloody-ah!-t-trap!

K- I'll use it for better things, then.

Arthur didn't reply after this. There were just muffled thumps and moans as the two try to make their way to the bedroom while remaining attached at the face. I put my fork in the sink and ramen cup in the trash and take myself and my backpack to my room to start my homework. Because hey, I need to get at least some homework done, this is just bad timing on their part.

I take of my shirt and flop on the bed, something that my neighbors sound like they're doing as well. Just super.

* * *

><p>So, that was really long. Typed while eating Blow Pops and listening to BOTDF. Go get some of each, both are good. Most of the stuff in here that seems racist really isn't supposed to be taken that way. Just stuff to make it interesting. Too see the lovely characters I borrowed, search Hetalia and then either China for Yao, Russia for Ivan, America for Alfred or England for Arthur; for best results use tumblr. Lots of pictures. I've been working on a layout for Matt's apartment, so might put that up.<p>

KY- Acronym for "Ku-ki ga Yomenai" literal translation from Japanese is "He/She cannot read the air". Basically Alfred isn't good at knowing what's expected as proper action in a situation, hence his 'cute when angry' remark.

Da- Russian for yes.

Weird factoid: Last three exchanges between Al and Artie are based off an exchange my ex boyfriend and I had on multiple occasions. Not exactly the wording and scenario in this chapter (I don't put out, give me a break), but you get the basic idea. He moved after we dated for three days. Just thought that was interesting.

Sorry for the long AN! Please review!

(Edit: Yeah, I just realized I forgot an awkward little noise-y from Artiekins~ Ignore this~)


	5. Chapter 5

Yay, a chapter!~ This took so long because I took a vacation. Was supposed to be published Wednesday, I swear.

Also, just realized I forgot to change the rating for that last chapter. Yikes, a bunch of fluff-lookers probably got a faceful of f-bombs.

Anyways, I'd like to thank the mass of people who commented on that insanely long chapter that I poured sore fingers, half a gallon of tea, and an all-nighter into!~ In fact, there were so many, I'm going to try to list them all below!~

**XxProudToBexX**

Wow, thank you all for those wonderful comments!~ *sarcasmbullshitsarcasm*

On to this shorter but still well-written(in my opinion) filler-ish chapter!

Disclaimer: If I owned DeathNote, lots of things would be different. But I don't. So they aren't. And so it goes.

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><p>When you come to school, you never expect to see two of your friends engaging in bondage. But, of course, that's what happens here.<p>

Right now, it's before school, and we're all around our table in the school plaza. Misa's having an episode in sync with Mikami, Sayu's trying (and failing) to hold back giggles, I'm playing a video game, and Mello's picking a lock. In all, a pretty typical morning. Except for everyone's favorite two with belligerent sexual tension, that is, everything is totally us-normal.

Near and Linda aren't here because they're hiding from Light's wrath (not Mello's, for once), because, well, Near and Linda accidentally/on purpose handcuffed these two together. I still don't know how they accomplished this. And not with an extended chain either. Oh, no, this was your standard-issue, three-inch chain police force handcuffs.

Mello is trying to undo Light's side of the cuffs first, which I guess is pretty hard because Light is ranting about 'how much this sucks' and how he's 'going to _kill_ Near Linda', and Light likes to talk with his hands as expressively as he does his mouth. This is making it very difficult for Mello to keep the pin actually in the lock, and probably making it difficult to see because L's hand keeps hitting him in the head. Ouch.

After about five minutes of having to restart to process of lock-picking, and getting hit in the head, Mello snaps.

As Light is giving a very detailed telling of "where I'm going to shove these _damn_ handcuffs the next time I see that little _shit_ Near", Mello stands up, punches Light square in the nose, and shouts, "If I have to restart this _freaking_ lock _one more time, I'll_ be the one shoving these cuffs where the sun don't shine, and I'll give your _hand_ a free _ticket _for the _ride! CAPICHE?_"

Misa starts crying, Sayu bursts out laughing, L keeps chewing his thumbnail (expectantly), Light is bleeding, and Mikami and I just sort of stand there in shock. Light composes himself and holds his bleeding nose, allowing Mello to continue while Light continues to grumble.

Five more minutes of relative silence later, there is a creek. And a pop. And a snap. The pin Mello is (or was, at this point) using to pick the lock just broke, leaving half jamming the lock inside. For a second, we all just stare at the sad metal nub in Mello's hand. Then watch as he throws it to the ground, our following its exact path. Eyes snap up as Mello gets up, clenches his fists, turns heel and walks away. I follow behind, being the faithful puppy dog that I am. As I'm led away, Light shouts "Hey! Don't just walk away! No-one else is criminal enough!

In response, Mello starts stomping.

.~::~.

I lost track of Mello, but now I've found him and he's pounding his head into a wall. Disturbingly enough, the first thing out of my mouth isn't "OHMYGODMELLOAREYOUOKAY?" but, in fact, "How long have you been doing that?"

"For about ten minutes."

_Tunk._

"Wow. Does it hurt?"

_Tunk._

"Pride-wise? (_Tunk.)_ Yes."

_Tunk._

"I meant the headwalling."

_Tunk_.

"Oh. Then no."

_Tunk._

"Wow."

_Tunk._

"Hn."

_Tunk._

"How long (_Tunk.)_ do you plan on doing that?"

_Tunk_.

"Eternity."

_Tunk._

"Bit dramatic."

_Tunk._

"Eh."

_Tunk_.

"Class?"

_Tunk._

"Eh."

_Tunk._

"You always go (_Tunk._) to class."

"Eh."

Okay, this is now old.

I grab the back of his leather vest and pull him away from the wall before he can hit it again. He tries to walk back towards it, so I push him towards an opposite wall and slam my hand next to his head.

"Stop it."

"Eh," he tries to go back to the wall via route not blocked by my arm. So I block that way too. Wow, how incredibly awkward have I made this situation?

_And how incredibly tempting._ My mind unhelpfully inputs. I look up. Even though he's just a bit taller than me, I still have him pinned to a wall. My eyes get just a bit wide, my heart starts beating just a bit fast. _Don't start blushing,_ I begin my mental mantra, _Don't start blushing, don't start blushing._ My face appropriately starts heating up. _Shit._

I sort of stand there, face red, pinning Mello, and don't really do anything. But Mello doesn't either, so we just sort of stand there staring at each other until, as if the universe is trying to re-instigate just how much it hates me, there's a matter-of-factly sounding throat-clearing from near us. We turn, and there stands our entire group, wearing expressions usually reserved for Light and L in these kinds of situations.

I quickly step away, face getting even redder, and wait for the black hole in the ground. Which is, as always, never where it's needed.

Light smirks at my blush and crosses his arms (before realizing that when he does that a particular person's hand brushes his chest), saying "And you say we have sexual tension. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mello develop a blush too. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not.

And, thank _God_, the bell rings. English. As those of us who have it make our way, chipper and unnecessarily loud twin cries of "Behave yourselves, lovebirds!~" sound from Sayu and Linda.

Jesus H. Christ, the universe does hatye me.

* * *

><p>I'm actually particularly fond of this one. Maybe because of the bondage? *shot*<p>

Seems we have come to the end of edited chapters, and are making our way into the realm of the new chapters. I have six and most of seven done, and I think you'll really like them (based on all your fabulous comments *continuing sarcasm*) so expect six within maybe a week or so. ...I think.

Thank you for reading! Reviews and Favorites are highly appreciated! Please wish my school's marching band (which I am a part of. Cymbals, whee~) good luck in the televised Hollywood Christmas Parade this Sunday!


	6. Chapter 6

I AM SO SORRY THIS WAS SO LATE. A lot of things happened, most of them really stupid (like forgetting I had a story), but some were legit (like total restriction from computer and internet of all kinds because of grades because of stress and just LIFE). But hey, I caught some sort of bug and now have the time to put this stupid thing up. Yay.

Yeah, this chapter was really fun to write; you'll see why by the time it's done. So, so much fun to mess with these boys. I'm so sadistic.

I don't own Death Note, though I probably need to get more fandoms to write besides it. Just for drabbles or something. Oh, and I don't own _The Turn Of The Screw_. But I am a fan of the novel.

.~::~.

Oh English, thou art a heartless bitch.

See, I don't really have a problem with the subject, I just have a problem with who teaches it, how they teach it, how long they take to teach it, and where they put my seat.

Mr. Matsuda, age 28. How he got his teacher's degree so fast will forever be a mystery. He picks good books, don't get me wrong, but then feeds their vast pools of knowledge to us with a teaspoon, like we're third-graders or something, rather than the only sophomore class taking college courses. Because I'm pretty sure Harvard hasn't been working on Henry James' _The Turn of the Screw_ for two months solid. And he put me in the center of the front row because I was talking to Mello when we sat in the back. I _hate_ the center, and the front row. It's the only thing that I hate more than PE. And in any case, Mello and I had been talking about the book. If anything, he should have given us extra credit. At least he put Mello behind me, so he's not a complete idiot.

Yeay, yeah. You're all like 'He has Mello in PE _and_ English?' Yeah, I do. I also have him in Chemistry 2, World History, Calculus and Band. 'He totally hacked the system' cry the self-assured fangirls. I am personally offended. Who do you take me for, Mikami? Mello, L, Light, Near, Me and a few others whom we don't hang out with bypassed high school requirements last year! So we all have a couple of classes together. Some people even have the exact same schedule, like Mello and I and Light and L. Mello and I have band (played clarinet 10 years, not all decisions are induced by infatuation. But he's damn sexy on his sax, so that kept me through freshman year), and the final period is taken by PE. And the others aren't all in our PE class because-*le gasp*- there's these things called variations in scheduling. But Mello and I take before-school classes (Calculus 2), and we take languages, Mello French and me Spanish.

Wow. Proof of not-stalking rambles take a while. Focus on your class, Matt. I tune in to what Matsuda's saying, which is more likely than not just what we're doing today.

"…and chapter 6, we have to do something for that too. Oh, but before I forget, I think we have a new student. He just transferred here from Foothill, and he should be here-ah, there he is!"

We all look towards the door, seeing that this kid is there. Several girls gasp and I do a double take, because he's, how do I put this… Only way I can think of is 'pretty'. Real messy looking, short black hair, violet eyes, pale skin, and a generally thin build. This guy has a _waistline_ for Chrissake! I mean…yeah, I have one too, and…so does Light…but we're not talking about us! …Anyways.

"Everyone, this is Darren Shaw. He's a sophomore, and he's a little bit behind in our book, so don't laugh if he asks questions. Now, who would like to be Mr. Shaw's guide around our school? That does include having him sit at your table, though, so he won't start out a loner." Everybody looks around at everybody else, seeing if anybody will raise their hand. The boys are all _really_ hoping somebody else raises their hand, because it's plain as day how attractive Darren is, and any dude raising his hand would have earned himself a one-way ticket to a 'queer' label for his high school career. The girls are looking around because they know they'll get killed by all the other ones out of jealousy if they so much as think of volunteering. I'm just lazy, so I don't want to expend energy raising my hand.

Seeing our reluctance to volunteer, Matsuda applies his victim-selecting expression and looks around for a choice cut of dead meat. And, of ourse, I am that dead meat. Who expected anything different? Hahaha-_NOBODY._

"Matt, how about you? And there's even an empty desk next to you-" I look over. So that's what my bag's been sitting on. "-so you can help him catch up to our class. Darren, please take your seat."

He nods and walks over to his new desk, unceremoniously nudging my bag off the chair with his knee. Well then. "I'm sorry, it's just that it was blocking my seat. I hope nothing was broken?" Girls in the back sigh. And I can see why. This guy has a nice voice. Like that guy from Captivity, only on a high school boy instead of a creepy-stalker-rapist-guy.

"Um, hello in there?" I turn to look at Mr. Matsuda, an intelligent "Uh" coming from my mouth. "Either answer Mr. Shaw's question, or stop staring at him so we can start today's lesson." Shit, I was staring at him? Girls in the back giggle. Stupid fangirls. I turn back to Darren, who has an eyebrow raised and a look in his eyes similar to something Mikami would produce.

"Uh…" I start, also intelligently, "Sorry 'bout staring at you." He just chuckles, one to match his voice and hair and stuff. "It's fine. Matthew, was it?"

"Well, actually-"

"His name's MATT," came Mello's voice from behind us, "and it'd do kindly if you _remember_ that, dipshit." I turn in my desk and give Mello a look. His pencil looks very near snapping, and he looks kinda angry. "Whoa, Mells, chill! It's just my name, he didn't know."

Darren smiles a Mello like I'd never spoken. "I'll be sure to remember, Mells-"

"And MY name," he shouts, pencil now looking very broken, "Is MELLO. Remember _that_ too." Darren just continues smiling. "Yes. I'll be sure to remember both of your names from now on." Mello just growls. Darren turns to Matsuda, "Our apologies for interrupting your class. Please, continue." Matsuda does so, hesitantly, and Darren sits down so I can start getting him caught up.

"So, what chapter was Foothill on for this?"

"Oh, we hadn't started this yet. We were reading 1984." Mello does a combination 'tch' and snort-thing. That time I sort of agree with him, that book was from a couple month ago. He's got to honestly be kidding me here. But, instead, he is continuing to smile. Right then, so not joking. "Please, take all th time you need to explain. Mello reacts again. He needs to chill, honestly.

The next forty-five minutes consists of me catching Darren up on everything up until the sixth chapter, which isn't really much. Sprinkled in is Darren leaning in to see the book better, and asking a few questions once in a while that seemed a little obvious to me, oh and Mello not acting at all like himself and tapping his pens and huffing like a trainer with an enemy using hyper potions on a defense-maxed Metapod (If that doesn't make sense to you, I _dare_ you to try it).

When class ends, I hear Mello mutter "Finally!" and pack his stuff up in an equally frantic manner as in the past period. Darren and I pack too, him thanking me for the help.

"So what's your next class?"

"Um…" He digs out a half-sheet from his pockets. "French with Bonnefoy, room 907." Eek, with his waistline, he's going to be stared at. By everybody. Including Mr. Teacher, but that guy stares at _fruit_ for being pretty. At least it's all harmless. …We think.

"Oh… Cool, that's Mello's class too, so just follow him. I have Spanish though," I point in the opposite direction his class is in "So I guess we'll have to share with the guiding thing. Here, let me see the rest of your classes," I take the sheet and glance over it. "So you have most of our classes, minus band and PE, so we'll be able to show you around easier."

"Whoop-dee-ficking-do!" Mello snaps, pushing between us, "Why don't you give him half your locker and invite him to the table. Then we can see him _all day!_" I look after him funny, "Well, actually, Matsuda says we have to let him sit at our table so he won't feel left out!"

"GAAAHH!" He hunches his shoulders, and jog-walks to the 900 wing. "What's with him?" Darren inquires with a weird look on his face. I just shrug and head to Spanish, Darren to French.

.~::~.

Hm, I wonder what's wrong with Mello? And Darren seems nice, eh?

Reviews are appreciated, even though I probably don't deserve them because this took me way too long to actually form into pixels for your enjoyment. GIVE ME CONCRIT, DAMMIT I KNOW SOME OF YOU HAVE IT FOR ME. (I do fully accept that I am a review whore. I'm just going to die in a corner now.)


	7. Chapter 7

Yep. Chapter Seven and all that. In good old Arial Narrow S.10, 0.5" margin, B0, A7 Spacing. Oh how I've missed those settings over break. Actually saw some kids who were walking home from school a few days ago, but they said it was 'just cram school'. Get out of cram school, and have family time. Now. Please tell me you guys were with family, yeah?

I know I suck for not getting this up. But I never ever claimed to be a nice person. Oh, and people who I couldn't reply to because the thingy hates my life:

DarkAngelJudas: I'm sure he probably does, creepy little bugger. (Sorry I didn't reply directly, the linky-thing was broken.)

Natlikesmatt (): I know! Isn't it just adorable? (Nice name, by the way)

Haha, you two thought I forgot about you, didn't you? I never forget about my readers!

Disclaimer: Is it a franchise? Does it make money? Then mine it indeed is not.

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><p>"His name is stupid." I raise an eyebrow at Mello's comment and turn to him. "Who?"<p>

"That Shaw guy," Mello spits out the name like it's some sort of bug. Like a caterpie of something. "_Darren_. What kind of name _is_ that?" I snort. "Says the kid draped in cowhide named Mello." He scowls. "It's German. It has an excuse. Darren does not, it's just weird." I shrug and keep walking.

It's my day off, and we're going to a Barnes and Noble. We are mourning the misery of the poor soul who has to scrape cotton that isn't me.

"I think he's nice. You're just a drama queen." Mello snorts, "Nice. Sure. Trying to show me up in French with his stupid Foothill ways is 'nice'," he air quotes around the last bit, "_Nobody_ can try to be better than anybody with pronunciations like _that_. It's so fricking middle school!"

"Maybe it's because he's new?" I suggest.

Foothill and Wammy's are like two completely different cultures. Except most of each side hates most of the other side. The 'knights' have a yearly GPA of a solid 2.69. However, the awesome students taking ownership of the title of Wammy's High Chipmunks (thank the class of '97 for the manly name) have a yearly GPA of 3.62. I know, right?

Mello rolls his eyes. "Still. He's stupid. 'Der, Parley vows Franches,'" apparently poorly imitating Darren from class. I laugh, because it's always funny when Mello does that voice.

We get to the bookstore and head for the Starbucks café. Mello sits down at a two-person table and brushes out a 'the usual' while getting out his books, obviously expecting me to pay. Oh glories of friendship, thou art always plenty. I order a chocolate frappa-thingy, a slice of cake, and a caramel late-y (still can't pronounce that). Price comes to sixteen-eighty, twelve of which is thanks to Mello. I pass the cash and carry the load to our table. "No fork?" Mello question-states, not once looking up from our English reading assignment, except to grab his drink and reduce its contents by a centimeter.

"I might, if I felt appreciated for buying you cake and coffee," I respond, nonchalantly starting on my own beverage. Mello puts down his drink and his book, folds his hands, and makes contact with my green eyes with his barely-stoic blue ones. "Thank you, Matt Jeevas, for procuring me a slice of double chocolate cheesecake and a java-chip frappucchino." oh that's what it's called… I gesture for him to continue. "And?"

He smirks, "I am forever in your debt." I nod with satisfaction. Or until you finish paying back the 30 bucks you owe me for coffee. Go get your own fork." Mello flips me off on his way. I snort and steal part of his cake with my finger.

Mello comes back, fork in hand, and continues reading, starting on his cake. _Stab, bite,_ a small noise as he pulls the fork through his teeth, an unspecified number of chews, and _swallow_. And I don't think he knows it, but every other bite or so Mello lets out the smallest sound of pleasure. I mean, don't get me wrong this cake is forged by the gods or something, but I've still failed to find any other food that makes me as jealous as double chocolate cheesecake.

We have finished our provisions and homework (or Mello has. Mine's completion, excluding math, comes during some class tomorrow.), and are now browsing the manga and graphic novels. Mello is ranting about shoddy teachers and the existence-es of Near and Darren while I un- and re-shelve various titles. Naruto vol. 46, xxxHolic vol. 14, Tsubasa vol. 21, and a couple titles that are new to the stocks,that I plan to start. This one title 'Death Note' looks kind of interesting.

Another interesting looking title catches my eye. Sure, it has a shoujo company logo on its spine, but I don't even. I flip through this 'Junjo Romantica' and- Oh. Oh dear mudkips, I do believe I am producing life substance from my nostrils. I clasp my hands over my face to try to slow the flood, the tang of copper entering my mouth.

"Mello," I try, the air that passes through my fingers causing a small spray of blood. "Yo, Mells, do you have a tissue? Or maybe a beach towel?" he looks up from his Gundam Wing, and immediately begins laughing at me. "Oh my _God_, Matt! What in the fuck did you _do?_ How can you even run into anything in a bookstore?"

I glare at him. "Mello, we won't be allowed in this store if I get blood on their carpet, which means no more free chocolate-coffee-things, so if you would please have a tissue?" Mello raises his eyebrows. "You really think Sayu, or anybody, really, could chick me up enough to carry around a mini-kleenex pack?" he crosses his arms, mock offended, "You insult my durability."

"Well, then what am I supposed to do about the Red-Sea-meets-Niagra-falls that has been freed from my face cavity, Mello?" He snorts. "Obviously use your shirt. But just holding it to your face won't really do it… You'll have to take it off."

Oh no. Nononono. No way in _hell_. My best friend, the guy I've had a gay crush on since ticks got tocks, telling me to take of my shirt. If I fapped, this would be a gold-mine. But I don't, so yeah. …Awkward. Okay, we need an excuse for me to not take of my shirt, besides-

"I don't want to show off my stupid girly curves, Mello!"

…Yeah, that. Mello just looks at me. "Seriously? You did a ten minute book report comparing Zelda and Midsummer Night's Dream while _in. Cosplay. __**Including**__ tights._ _**In front of people who could have and did blackmail you.**_ But you won't take of your shirt in front of a bunch of strangers and your best friend because of your stupid curves_._ Seriously, dude?"

"Fine! Jesus Mello, Eager much to get me naked?" I put the book that started this whole ordeal onto a shelf and pull my shirt over my head and press it to my face. The blood immediately begins soaking through, continuing in its lessening flow. Mello rolls his eyes at my comment and picks up the book I put down, flipping through it. His eyes get a bit wide.

"Wow. Okay. I'm just going to stick with my 'you ran into something' theory. Hot damn, you're already getting feminine, don't need you reading this stuff," he smirks as he re-shelves the book, "You're girly curves'll get worse."

"Wull mbabey I like mby gurly curbs," I try to counter, my shirt inhibiting my speech. Before Mello can launch his counter-counter attack, a guy from the B&N staff, Marv, according to his name tag, comes up behind him. "Um, excuse me, but I've received complaints from some of our patrons about your lack of clothing, and I'm going to have to ask you to either put your shirt back on or leave our store."

I don'd tink da former will be very easy," I say, my speech improving as I pull my shirt from my face to show him the now near stopped flow. Marv's eyes get big like Mello's did, probably because blood is coating a third of my face. I lick some of it off my lips. "How on Earth did you managwe to do that?" Marv inquires.

Mello jumps in. "He ran into the edge of this shelf here," He pats the one with the Romantics book on it, "because he was playing one of his handhelds. He's rather clumsy, so he does this a lot." I nod, 'verifying' the lie. Marv raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything besides shooing us from the store.

We walk out to my car (because Mello doesn't have one, ha!) and start for my place for some games. Mello still seems to think he can beat me at Mortal Kombat. Not likely. Even if he does distract me when he sticks his tongue out in concentration. It's almost cute.

So now we're back at my place, mashing at buttons with BVB blasting out of our speakers, drowning out any and all complaints from neighbors from our iHome (We split the cost, but it's totally mine. Mello pays off his debts by helping pay for electronics and bills. I might get more electricity with his help). It's really a wonder I haven't been kicked out yet. Maybe because I'm the only one to last this long in this room.

And Mello is the only one to last this short. He's currently trying to use Scorpion against Sonya Blade. Good one, Mello.

"K.O.!" I shout with the announcer. I laugh, "Beat you again, Mello!" he rolls his eyes and goes to my kitchen for chocolate. "How's about another go?" I shout over the music, "We can go sixteen out of thirty!"

"Please, you would take all thirty and barely think about it."

Very true. Your ass would be mine." I take a drink from my Red Bull. He saunters back in, hosting the package of chocolate and two raised eyebrows. "Please, you wouldn't know what to do with all of this. He flops back onto the couch, spinning in a way to show me 'all of this' as he does.

"Touché." I go for another bit of Red Bull. _But I know what you could do with mine._ I nearly choke on my Red Bull when that thought makes itself known. _What the hell, brain? How did _that_ get past the firewall?_

_Firewall doesn't protect against stuff you download on your own, Matt._

_Well, yeah, but we're only in high school and we aren't even dating! I've never even had a girlfriend before._

_Or a boyfriend._

_Yeah, but-Shut up! I am talking to my brain! I am not talking to you anymore! I mean myself! Gah, shut up!_

"So!" I say to distract myself from the perverted tendencies living in my brain and the personal spat I had been having with them, "how about a movie? Since you obviously can't play." Mello shrugs. "What's in your inventory?" I get up, shut off the iHome (with a "finally, bloody prats" from Arthur), making my way over to my box. "We have… the original Star Wars trilogy, True Grit, Saw, 300, The Ring, and the new Alice in Wonderland. Anything suit your fancy?"

"300." I pop the selected disk into the gizmo and glance at my phone for the time, yawning. Whoa, almost one. No wonder I'm so crashed, we gamed for hours! I sit on the couch next to Mello, yawning again. Less than half an hour later, I find myself falling asleep on Mello's shoulder while Leonidus marches off to battle.

* * *

><p>GAH. WHY WAS THIS SO DIFFICULT TO FINALLY GET ONTO HERE. WHAT THE HELL. But yeah, anyways, rest assured to you all, I will most likely not make the wait this long any time soon. Probably. Yeah. I feel like this chapter was sort of bad. Opinions?<p>

Happy New Year to everybody! We have less than a year left! d(^-^)b And ,y break ends day after tomorrow, so yeah. School. Back to awful math teachers and the epicness that is marching band.

Reviews are, as always, very welcome!


	8. Chapter 8

I promised two people yesterday that this would be posted today. And they were such lovely people, too! This one goes out to **Jigoku-HI** and **Pherse Issac. **And **Pastry Queen **, because she's reviewed all my stuff. And **DarkAngelJudas**. Did I get you all? Good.

To let you all know, there won't be any ANs until the end of the next chapter. Do not question me. But I feel the need to assure you, no, the rating is not going to change. Kthnxbye

Mello loves Matt

And I love all of you

Death Note isn't mine

So there's no grounds to sue… me. Stfu, I'm not good at poetry.

_Nice dream. Mello. Holding hands. Talking, can't hear. Meh. Nice anyways. …Fading. No. Nonononono. Still tired. Like this dream. Nooo. Awake. On couch. Coffee. Need coffee. …Can't get up. Frozen! Frozen by Mario! Going to kill him next time I-_

Oh wait. My brain just earned an iota of logic. Mello came over last night, didn't he? He's probably why I can't move. Another attempt to get up confirms that yes, those are arms around me. Duh. Mario? Don't be weird. I lean my bare back into Mello's embrace, head just below his shoulder. Wait.

OH MY GOD MELLO IS HOLDING ME. WHILE I'M SHIRTLESS. I instantly tense up, causing Mello to shift and grumble incoherently in his sleep. I sit there for a second, eyes wide, body stiff. I can feel his heartbeat on my shoulder blades. It feels nice… No! Focus! I croak out a weak "Mello," voice caught on sleep in my throat. I clear my voice and try again. "Er, Mells?" he sighs in his sleep, the breath dancing over my ear and through my hair, making me shiver. "M-Mello, wake up. We have school." I make out a vague "D'wanna, Matt." From the corpse I am leaning on.

I'm in his dream… No! Focus on re-waking the dead first! "Hey look, Ghirardelli is having a giveaway." Mello's arms tense and then relax, one unwinding from around me to press sleep out of his hazy eyes. "Not cool." I look up at him and he looks down at me. "Th'fuck you doin' up here?"

I snort. "Good question, seein's you put me here, based on your arm bein' round me." Mello blushes and fully releases me. I go to make coffee. I feel like a wife.

"Coffee?" I ask it out of habit. Mello always wants coffee in the morning. I pull out my lazy-ass, pre-ground, crap-coffee, but still heavily caffeinated coffe, putting it in the machine that doubles for ramen.

Mello groans along with my couch, which he flops back onto. "As long as you don't give me any of that lazy-ass, pre-ground, crap-coffee. That shit is nasty as hell." Yep. Mello is a morning swearer.

"Well, if you want good coffee so badly, you can set up the Xbox at your place. I doubt you could, you were never much good with wires." Mello grumbles a 'Fine' and gets up to use my restroom. I set up the first cup to brew, getting a new shirt from my room. The last new-new one, my 'Geek In The Pink' teeshirt. I need to do laundry soon. By the time I get out, Mello is setting up my cup, dunking a chocolate bar into his own. I take my turn in the bathroom, brushing and flossing and stuff. Still not needing to shave. I go out and get my coffee. Mello goes to my room and comes out with my Metallica shirt on, a drastic change from yesterday's BVB. We finish our coffee in relative silence, idly chatting now and then.

I check the clock: 7:05. "Mells, time to learn things," He snorts. "Yeah right. No." We go down to the parking garage and spend the 3-mile drive arguing about whose apartment is better.

We've been thinking about converging into one apartment for a while now. Mello's complex has more space and is in a better part of town, but I say it costs too much. Mello doesn't like my neighborhood, both outside and inside the building. Especially Ivan and the couple next door to me. I say it isn't that bad, and plus I've gotten attached, but it's bad enough for him so he's not having it.

We get to school to see our group, with the addition of Darren, who seems to be telling a story. Sayu and Misa are positively enthralled by him, even if the latter is still attached to the other guy she's 'enthralled' with. Mello huffs as we make our way over. Darren sees us and smiles.

"Good morning, Matt!" I go to reply, but Mello cuts in, "Good _morning, Darren._" The addressed boy raises an eyebrow, an entertained look on his face. He shrugs and continues his story. Something about boats. I don't get it, so I take out my DS. Mario Tetris today.

I get to level 15 and I'm about to get the winning combo, my blue tetrimino ghost slotted perfectly next to the massive stack of colored shapes, when somebody puts an arm around my shoulders. It startles me because I was flying, here, and the chain reaction begins:

Instead of just pushing the hard-drop key, I also push the left button. This puts my massive block one row above the screen.

Boo-doop ba-doo-doo-doo-doop (Doo-cha-doo). Just awesome.

"Sorry, did you lose? I just wanted to see what you were doing." I turn to Darren, a barely pleasant I-hope-you-sit-on-glass-but-I'll-pretend-I-don't smile. "No… It's… Fine. Ahaha, I've already beaten that level, actually."

"Oh really?" He shifts his hand down to my upper arm, drawing me closer to his body.

"_No, _actually, he_ hasn't_. he's just being_ polite._" I flich at Mello's crudeness. "Well, that's not really happening anymore, is it Mello? Seriously, what's gotten into you?"

Darren waves it off, smirking. "It's okay. If anything, I can _appreciate_ what other's find… precious." At precious, he draws me in close and gives Mello this weird look. Mello growls. I'm confused. "Well… Okay then!"

"U-um…" Misa pipes in, "Shaw-san-"

"Call me Darren, I insist," Mello snorts. I shift under Darren's continuing grip on my arm and light up.

"Okay… Darren-san. Did you h-have a girlfriend while you were at Foothill?" Yagami must be excited now. There's another possible candidate to be Misa's squeeze-toy. Darren shakes his head. "No, I was never interested in the girls there. But, ah, someone here has caught my… attention." His hand tightens further on my arm. I wince. Why does he keep doing that?

Was I hurting you? I apologize." Darren releases my shoulder. I smile and wave I off, but Mello walks over, fretting and scowling over my slightly sore arm like he's my mum or something. Sayu's looking at us funny, and I catch her eye and raise an eyebrow at her. She shrugs and shakes her head, smiling. I shrug too, taking a breath of my cancer stick.

"Mello, Jesus, you aren't my damn mum! I'm freaking fine!" He scowls… More? Harder? I don't know ho w to put it, so let's just say it was with more intensity (when taken out of context… Dear mushrooms, shoot me now), but lays off.

I restart and re-immerse myself into my game while the girls ask Darren questions like his Blood-type and star sign. Strange how most of them come with compatibilities. Mello and I chat, L and light start another fight about the handcuffs, with Mikami nodding enthusiastically with all of Light's statements. Yep.

I excuse myself to go to the bathroom, and halfway there the passing bell rings. I can make it. I jog the rest of the way, and notice another set of footsteps following me as I turn down the dead-end hallway where the bathrooms are. I ignore them. To each their own in the bathroom, and all. Until they start speeding up, and a pair of arms wrap around me, and a set of lips press to my neck.

I gasp in shock, but half-mindedly lean back into the warm embrace. The half of my brain that's still working notices that it doesn't smell like Mello, but I don't care at the moment. The lips begin making their way up my neck to my pulse, and then to my ear, nibbling on it. My eyes flutter shut.

"Hi Matt," my eyes snap wide open as the tip of Darren's tongue traces the shell of my ear, "I want to talk to you about something."


	9. Chapter 9

"_Hi, Matt," my eyes snap wide open as the tip of Darren's tongue traces the shell of my ear, making me shiver, "I want to talk to you about something."_

My heart-rate speeds up as I turn out of Darren's embrace, my face red from his actions. "Wh-what is it you wanted to talk about?" Darren is putting as I turn to face him.

"You" he says simply. "What about me?"

"I don't know if you know this darlin', but there's a _lot_ about you." I don't really get it, but it sounds like a compliment. "What about all of it, then?" He smirks in an almost threatening way and steps toward me. I step back. His lips smoothly pour out, "I like all of it." We repeat the dance of him-step-forward-me-step-back until I hit the wall with a surprised noise.

Darren pushes me further into said wall, his hands on either side of my head. I wonder if this is how Mello felt yesterday? Wait… Holy _fuck_, I only met this guy yesterday, and now his face is getting a little too close to me. Way to fast, bro! We don't even know each other! His face may be nice, but I already have an unreasonable hope for who's will be giving my first kiss, and his isn't it! I turn my face away from his, making his lips and-dear Zelda-his _tongue_ hit my cheek instead. I push at his chest to get him away, but he traps my arms painfully with his hands and comes back to try again. And again. I'm in full-panic-mode now.

"Darren…Darren, I'm not even-I-haven't-Darren! DARREN! I'm, serious, stop! Stop, Darren, what the-" My protests are interrupted and continued by another voice, one further away.

"What the living _fuck_ are you _doing_ with him, Shaw?"

Darren freezes, and my mind almost goes black from the wash of relief that overlaps my panic. Then Darren's eyes take on a very dark tone, one to match the almost predatory grin on his face as he looks over his shoulder. "Glad you could make it, Mello. You're just about to see me finish what you could never start." In a corner of my mind, I notice that Darren kind of sounds like GLaDOS from the second game. Mello snarls, a sound of almost pure fury, and advances down the hallway towards us. Darren does an about-face, gripping me behind him in what could normally be called a protective embrace. I don't feel protected. I can feel his heart.

"You have _no right_ to him!" Mello continues on his way down. "_Nobody_ does! Not you, not me, not _anybody_! _He_ chooses who he wants, and nobody should be allowed to force his hand." Mello stops in front of Darren, staring him dead in the eyes. I just noticed he's slightly taller than Darren. "Especially. Not. YOU."

Darren chuckles. It reverberates through his back to my chest, seeming to shake my heart with the threatening sound. I shudder. "Mello, Mello, Mello. I have done nothing to shake his independence on this decision. Not that it's even much of a _decision_, anyways. Who else would he pick? _You_?" he scoffs, as if confirming a selection I hadn't even _made_ yet! And I don't even know who it's between!

"Yes it is a decision!" I input, forcing my way through Darren's arms, and stand behind Mello. He backs away, left arm on my shoulder. _Now_ I feel protected. "And it isn't yours to make!" Darren puffs out an almost bored breath.

"Well, then make it already. You have your options set out in front of you, take your pick of them. But, I mean _really_ now, would you honestly pick someone like him?" his gaze flickers towards Mello. Wait… I'm choosing between them? Well, then this'll be easy!

"Yes! Mello is way better than you! _Anybody_ is better than you!"

"How so?" Darren's tone is almost disbelieving. How can somebody be so overconfident?

"They don't force themselves others, mainly. They don't make assumptions, and they don't molest people, Darren! Have you seen anybody else do any of those things?" Darren smiles and winks "Nobody else knows what they want like I do."

Mello lets out a furious almost-roar and charges at Darren, punching him in the face as hard as he can. Darren's head snaps back, hitting the wall with a sharp crack. He collapses, a bruise forming on his eye.

The first thing that comes out of my mouth should probably be 'THANK YOU SO MUCH MELLO YOU SAVED MY FACE VIRGINITY I'LL BUY YOU CHOCOLATE FOR FOREVER', but inste4ad it's "Dude, I think you killed him.

Mello shakes out his hand, wincing. Something's probably broken, that punch was excellent. "Good. Fucker deserved it."

"We should probably take him to the nurse's office."

"An unconscious body in a hallway might cause mass hysteria from the students. Which, contrary to your belief, is not, in fact, a good thinbg. And we might get him suspended if we tell the disciplinary forces." Mello lets out an amused huff through his nose. "Yagami'd get a kick out of _me _bringing somebody _else_ in." -yeah, Light's dad. Disciplinary officer. "Kid's been here two days, and he's already punched out. Is this a new record?"

"Nope, you still hold that one. Half an hour in, you called the quarterback a 'steroid hippo,' remember?"

Mello rolls his eyes, "But he was one! Did you see him?" I look at him. "Let's just get this to the office. Can you lift him?" I don't want to. He molested me, he's probably covered in essence of rape. Not to mention I have no muscles.

"I'm not touching that thing! No way!" Mello crunches his nose and recoils from the limp form (It's still limp. That was a great punch). I sigh and aim straight for his solution-equals-violence receptor. "There's stairs between here and the office. Wanna drag him?" Mello's eyebrow twitches. I've won.

We each grab an arm, and five minutes, sixteen hopefully painful thumps, and a couple of bandages later we are in Yagami's office explaining the events of the day to a scarlet-ing disciplinary supervisor.

"If you two are telling the truth-"

"We are. We already showed you the bruises. He pulls at my sleeves and collar to reveal the marks on my wrist and shoulder. Soichiro huffs.

"_If_ you are telling the truth, Mr. Shaw's testimony will confirm your story. I need both sides to see if provocation was present. Sexual assault is not to be taken lightly, and neither is physical assault, Mr. Kheel."

"It was self-defense!" Mello flops against the chair, exasperated. "Or whatever you call assaulting somebody who is _molesting your friend._ What, was I supposed to just _not_ punch him and let Matt get all fondled? Yeah right. And it's not like I could've _talked_ to him. Narcissus over here wouldn't have listened to a bullhorn."

"I would if he had been holding it," a cocky voice sounds from next to me, at the same time as a finger travels up my thigh. I squeak in a rather unmanly show of surprise, scrambling further away from the now-active from, falling onto Mello in my attempt to get away. Darren snorts, and Mello growls at him, helping me right myself. "Still falling for me, sweetheart?"

Mello spits out, "Wanna go back to Neverland, do you bitch? I'll get you a one-way ticket with how far my foot'll be up your-"

"_**Mello!**_" Me and Yagami shout it together, only he says 'Mr. Kheel.' Yagami rubs his temples, and I hit Mello upside the head. I may be in love with this boy, but he's still an idiot sometimes.

"Mr Shaw, now that you're awake, I'd like to hear your side of the incident that took place. These two boys claim you were making sexual suggestions of a harassing nature against the will of the receiving party, in this case Mr. Jeevas."

Darren snorts. "The suggestions were sexual, but they were neither harassment, nor against anyone's will." He squeezes my knee. I slap at his hand, and then at his face, scooting away in a very girlish manner. Probably on the list of Most Feminine Things Matt Has Ever Done, but stfuidc.

"It was both, you ass!" I screech, my voice an octave or two above bishounen-uke-bitch, "What part of 'Darren stop what the fuck are you doing' and struggling to flee radiates consent? The academic standards at Foothill must be worse than we thought, you're a government-issue _retard_!" I cross my legs and arms as tight as I can, body threatening to implode.

Everybody blinks away their shock at my outburst. I blush. I may be the victim, and I may be entitled to those note achievements, but I still _hate_ _it _when my voice does that.

"Well, then. Mr. Yagami clears the silence. "Um, Mr. Shaw, I'll need to contact your parents to inform them of your suspension, and Mello, seeing as you have a… unique home situation, I guess that won't be necessary. But you're still suspended." He spends the next few minutes running off the details (Mello can't be within 500 feet of the school for two weeks, Darren can't leave his house for five), and sends Darren back to class.

"Mello, because you were defending another student, you won't have to attend a hearing. Seeing as this is your third infraction of physically assaulting a student, you usually would have been expelled from this school. Consider yourself lucky. Now, go home. Matt, go back to class."

"I don't have my license, can Matt drive me home?" Soichiro nods, and gives us our passes.

*gasps for air* WHY DID THAT TAKE ME SO LONG TO TYPE. I MEAN REALLY IT ISN'T EVEN THAT LONG. I'M SO SORRY YOU GUYS. But seriously, I got distracted by everything. Every day was just: Let's type a story, oh I'll play Angry Birds/update my blog/make some soup/google weird things/stare at pictures of Benedict Cumberbatch/check for updates/draw some cows/stare at Benedict's neck/write a tumblr post/refresh my tumblr dashboard/compile all the ways Martin Freeman is similar to a hedgehog/clean out my tumblr likes/watch The Reichenbach Fall until I SOB/reblog some shit. (Yes, I am now watching Sherlock. 100% Cumberbitch here, guys)

But yeah, on a different note, am I allowed to hate my own OC? Because I really hate Darren. He's… Just generally green and gelatinous. Like boogers, sort of. (Jesus, what am I, five?) But yeah. Am I the only one? I feel like I am. Probably not.

Okay, this is an odd little bit I'm about to throw out here, but did I do good on that scene? Seriously, I need feedback on that. I haven't ever written a scene like that, so it was a bit of an ohGodwhatamIdoing.

Shutting up now. Hopefully updates will come quicker! Reviews welcomed!


	10. Notice

My dearest readers,

I am very sorry to inform you of this, and I'm not even sure that enough of you are invested enough in my stories to care, but it seems that this story, Neverending Difficulty, will have to be put on hiatus until further notice, due to the fact that I seem to have contracted a highly irrational fear of romantic intimacy. Because of the first-person perspective of the story, and the irrational nature of my new phobia, it feels as if the actions I depict have actually happened, and have been performed on me. Insane, right? I know. I guess that's why they call it an irrational fear, huh? What's even stranger is that this inspires a drabble, one like like my story 'Too Much to Ask,' whose portrayal of L is actually a manifestation of the person who caused this fear. I apologize for this babbling, and if this drabble comes to be real, then that will be the next time I see you.


	11. Chapter 11

RAISE YOUR HAND IF YOU THOUGHT I WAS DEAD AND THAT THIS STORY WAS GOING TO REMAIN FOREVER INCOMPLETE~ *raises hand*

All joking aside though, I did not expect it to take this long. Holy shit. But there is a lot of internet on here. Have you seen all of it? My friend got me addicted to Sherlock, and then she got me into Homestuck, and then my brain started being all LOL DIFFERENT FANDOM FIC IDEAS and I sort of sketched them out and I'm babbling I'll shut up.

Righty. This note is becoming longer than the story, so I will let all of you enjoy that.

.~::~.

As we pull out of the school parking lot, I remember a question I'd had before.

"Hey, Mells?" I ask, turning down the stereo, "What did he mean by 'finish what you couldn't start?'" From the corner of my eye, I see Mello stiffen just a bit and his face gain a slight flush.

"What did _you_ mean by 'of course Mello's better than you?'" He says it so mundanely that it's anything but mundane. My face goes hot. I try not to get my hopes up, but I fail. "I-I…" I can barely get that one letter out. "Does… does your answer… mean… the same as mine?" I probably shouldn't be driving when I'm like this.

"I don't know," Mello responds, with a practiced tone, "What does your answer mean?" Either Mello is legitimately confused and I'm about to lose a friend and half my heart, or he's as nervous as I am and I'm about to become the happiest person for miles.

"Um…" I've never been this quiet, this nervous, this stuttery, in my entire life. I probably shouldn't drive when I'm like this. "It might… mean that… th-that… THAT I FREAKING LOVE YOU, OKAY!" I'm so flustered that I shout it-unnecessarily loud, in fact-and stop in the middle of the road. Thank GLaDOS for work hours.

I don't look at Mello, my face burning a hole in the already battered ozone. Mello still hasn't spoken. That's probably a bad thing. A slideshow of possible expressions-betrayal, hate, disgust-run through my head. I choose to focus instead on the quick _th-thump th-thump_ of my heart. The quiet becomes suffocating.

"_Say_ something." I glance up at Mello, and double-take because he doesn't have to any more. Because he's _smiling at me._ Not a crafty smirk, or a devious grin, but a closed-lipped and honestly happy smile that actually reaches his eyes. They look so much… brighter. I immediately relax and return it, launching myself at him in a hug. We both laugh as he catches me, both of us ignoring the _thud_ of my knuckles hitting the opposite door in favor of the fact that Mr. Nonphysical Mello is actually _hugging_ me.

After a second, I start to feel the bruises on my knuckles and my leg starts to fall asleep. I quickly pull over to the side of the road and re-situate myself on the passenger side, leaning cross-legged on the glovebox thing. Mello just keeps looking at me, that smile on his face. I look down at my hands. "Why d'you keep looking at me like that?" He tilts my head back up.

"Never been able to before. Now hold still." His gaze makes me blush. He hm's. "You have a cute blush." I punch him in the arm. "Shut your face, and stop making me blush."

He laughs, "I'm being serious! You actually have a lot to like." Mello scrunches up his nose, "I probably sound a lot like Darren, but I have to admit, that's the only thing he was right about. _God_ I don't like saying that." He shakes his head.

I 'hm' and poke him in the ribs. I don't fucking know _why_, I was bored. Mello gives me a funny look. "I am a lot of things: devilishly handsome, undeniably lucky-"

"Crushingly humble" I mutter.

"-but I am not ticklish." His face forms into an almost evil smile, "You, however, are." He attacks me, our extreme closeness as children giving him knowledge of every place that makes me squeak like some stupidly tiny dog. I'm practically shrieking, and then I accidentally kick him in the ribs. He grunts, and stops. Fuck

"Shit! Sorry! But I've told you, I'm not responsible for your injuries if you start tickling me!" Mello coughs and laughs, "It's fine. Just another thing about you, right?" I look down. It sounds like a compliment? But also like an insult? "Hey," It sounds kind of concerned. He's hoarse from my kick. "I meant that as a good thing." I snort. Because my self-esteem isn't the best, and he has to be kidding.

"No, I'm totally serious!" he makes me look at him again. His eyes are still really blue. "I…" he looks a little nervous, and I think that's a blush. "You. Are an awesome human being. There is actually a _mass compilation_ of things in your entirety that are really really great, and..." he leans his head on one of his hands, "Okay, I'm really not good with this, and I should just get on with it." He inhales, "You just have this… cynical-yet-hopeful view on everything. And you can morph it into this fantastically hilarious sarcasm that you do. I don't even know how, but it's just so… you. You're absurdly clumsy, and I have this thing where I kind of hope you fall and then I can catch you, but that's probably really stupid." He's full red now. It's amazing how emotional he actually is. "I think your collection of video game undergarments is really adorable, even though I say it's dumb. It's kind of from that stupid dude concept of hate-them-to-show-affection thing that's also really stupid and kind of controversial and immensely immature. Your naivety has caused a few people a couple of problems, but I don't really mind. I had to work to get you, and you're worth it. Dear God are you worth it, but I don't get how-"

Sensing his impending self-deprecating speech, I kissed him on the cheek. That worked sufficiently.

"See, before you get a crack at yourself, it's _my_ turn to talk." I smirk at him. "You believe in a God that I find totally illogical, but it defines you, so I like it. Him. You have a really cute habit of fiddling with your rosary when you're nervous," I look pointedly down at his hand that is currently occupied with clicking together those very same beads. He stops and goes to pull his hand away, but I take it and put it back on the necklace. "You have a plainly cynical and realistic view on everything, but you still manage to stay sane. And," I laugh to myself, "you kind of look like the Greek sun god, only German. PE's the best-worst class I've ever had."

Mello's nose scrunches up a bit, and then he lets out a long hard laugh. I join him, and we both laugh until we only have chuckles on our lips and tears in our eyes. During the following silence, I recognize a song from the radio. "Shit, I love this song!" I reach over and turn it up. I start singing along somewhat poorly to the lyrics

_And now you steal away_

_Take him out today_

_Nice work you did_

_You're gonna go far, ki-_

"Hey Matt?" I discontinue my lyrical solo in favor of _hm_ing a response while doing a weird little swaying head-bob car-dance thing. He givese me this really weird sort of look, and says "I'mgoingtokissyouonthecheekokay?"

And then he does.

And I freeze.

And then I hug the living shit out of him, because this antisocial man is the greatest thing that's ever happened to me.

.~::~.

I wrote this, and then another chapter. The one after this seems to be a pretty decent end-point, so it probably will be. Unless the universe doesn't give me something shiny to get distracted by.

This seemed kind of short. But my romantic muse decided to pull a Reichenbach. Whether this is just a magic trick, or my muse really did have severe depression, the world may remain in the dark about forever. In which case would probably mean that it _did_ have severe depression.

By the way, I got an account on Archive of Our Own. It's CelloAstro, the name that I changed this account to as well. Because that's what I call myself. 'Astro'.

Until next time. Reviews brighten my day! Even though I made you wait 2 months-HOLY SHIT TWO MONTHS. I AM SO SORRY.


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